


Pointy Elbows & Cart Horses (Janther Week)

by TheSecondBestBed



Category: Jane and the Dragon
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/M, Heavy Angst, janther week, stand alone one shots, war world ii au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecondBestBed/pseuds/TheSecondBestBed
Summary: My submissions for Janther Week. They're all one shots and I do plan on making one entry for each topic, but I'll upload what I have so far for now. :)





	1. Fair Chances (Metanoia)

 

"Gunther..."

"It is fine Jane."

"I...merely...it is-"

"Jane" Gunther paused to stoke the fire one last time, prodding a bit harsher than necessary "stop speaking. I can barely hear myself think with you constantly opening your mouth every half chance you get."

Jane tried to not let the words sting, but they did. Her eyes stared at him with a hint of indignation, but mostly with shame. Finally she looked away, chewed on her bottom lip, and curled her arms around her legs. The night was cool and still, the only sound being the soft crackling of the fire, but Jane did not appreciate it in the least. This quiet was different, filled with a thick bitterness. It was worse knowing it was her fault it was this way.

She kept her eyes trained on the fire, momentarily forgetting the sting of her palm. Jane looked down at the bandage Gunther had wrapped around it with an absent mindedness, her other hand touching the area where most of her fingers used to be. Her mind was too busy re-playing what occurred yesterday. The smell of fresh blood as it sprayed in front of her, staining her hair and face as it flew into the auburn sky. It was always someone else's blood that scarred her the most. Many times she had wished it was hers, like tonight for example, and probably every night afterward.

* * *

 The Day Before.

She gripped her sword and with little time to think she parried and struck another knight square on the side. He let out a loud roar-like groan, fighting through the pain. Jane struck him again on the neck, and he went down without much of a fight, blood spraying on impact. Her breath was ragged, as it always was during a battle, but her mind was clear. One had to find some clarity in the chaos of war, without it there awaited certain death. Jane's eyes took a second to search for Gunther in the madness, for the wolf embellished on his armor plate. Before she had the chance, she was surrounded by two knights in front and behind her. She screamed, a demonstration of her zealousness and fierceness. A war cry was just bluff. It was a knight's reassurance in battle, like a lullaby that was meant to give them a false sense of security. In reality they were all afraid, all sad, and all broken.

She waited for one of them to make the first move. Sir Theodore had always warned about acting too quickly.

_'Remember Jane, the knight who strikes first in impatience has less time to assess his situation. Give yourself the time you need to think, and think before you swing.'_

His voice always rang in her head like a church bell, clear and with purpose. There was a pause between all of them, none willing to make the first move. Minutes passed but Jane had patience; she would wait until her moment came.

"Argh!" Behind her she heard a familiar voice sound out, then the clink of swords coming together. Too afraid to turn around, she kept her eyes trained on the men in front of her; it proved to be the right choice. Quickly afterward both knights advanced, and Jane thrust her shield forward to stop her arm from being cut off. The weight of both weapons hitting it was still strong enough to send a shaking pain across her arm, and send her back a couple steps. It took some footwork to keep herself on her feet. A knight on the ground was completely defenseless.

She could feel her heart beat in her temples. A hand grabbed her from behind, and Jane reflexively went to jab her elbow backwards, but luckily someone caught it. "Lady Jane, 'tis I."

"Timothy--I am relieved to see you."

Timothy looked worse for the wear; his eye was swollen shut and covered in blood from a wound on his forehead, yet somehow he managed to smile at her.

"I believed you were in need of some help" he positioned his sword upward, eye trained on the knights in front of them. Jane did not have much time to reply before the men attacked again. This time she lunged her shield at the appropriate time, and struck one of them fairly on his head. His helmet made a long 'cling!' as it hit against the shield, and he swung his sword wildly in an attempt to not be hit again. The blade struck her on her inner arm, and Jane let out a loud hiss when she felt the pain. The pain alone was enough to give her the strength she needed to strike him again, and Jane heard a sickening crack before striking him a third time. She did not stop until his body hit the floor.

Her victory was short lived as a spear flew from behind and knocked her shield out of her hand. A couple of inches to the right and she would have been dead. Instead she was left with a burning pain and a notable cut on her palm that began bleeding profusely. She did not have the time to properly assess it, but it was bad. Most of her fingers were broken, and it caused her to temporarily panic.

 _'Jane'_ Sir Theodore's voice rang again, but far more distantly than before. It hurt too much to pay attention.

Jane turned around and immediately her body went cold. It was much worse than she thought. The enemy was advancing towards them in a bigger group now, more knights than she could count. How was this possible? Were they losing the war?

Timothy was standing back to back with her now, when she glanced back and caught a glimpse of his fear filled expression. She had seen the look before on her comrades, her enemies, herself. Jane willed a strong expression on her countenance, she needed to be strong for Timothy--he was just a squire after all. Not fully doused in the experience of war. 

"Timothy listen to me, we must-"

"Jane!"

From afar Jane could hear the faint call of her name. Normally it would be difficult to hear much of anything amidst the screams, but his voice was always distinct to her. Perhaps it was because she had heard it so much in her youth.

"Gunther?" Without skipping a beat her eyes landed on his frame, where he was locked in combat with a sizable knight. The two were struggling to overpower the other, sword against sword, but Gunther's eyes were on them.

"Jane--I am coming to help you! Do not advance."

Her eyebrows furrowed. _Was he mad?!_ He had read her mind it seemed, because Jane knew the only tactical method that might work in such a situation was to advance forward in one direction as swiftly as possible and try to make their way to the other side. Being enclosed like this--waiting for his help when he needed some of his own--it was risky. Jane looked at Gunther again to find him struggling still. Could he really be of help?

"Jane?" Timothy called in an almost desperate manner, inching closer to her as the knights began to form a proper circle. Soon their formation would be structured enough to move in with little chance of resistance; Jane knew she had a small window of opportunity now.

"Jane! Please-trust me!"

She could hear Gunther call out to her, but she did not turn this time. Her eyes were on the enemy. Could she really trust him? _Gunther's_ judgement of all people?

"Jane!"

She was sweating now. She could hear the sharp intakes of breath escaping her. _Gunther of all people?_ It repeated in her mind like a dark chant. She had just one chance. Just one.

What came after was a haze. A mess of screaming, the blaring sounds of steel, and an array of movement that was controlled yet not quite her own. Jane could not remember most of it, just the sight of blood flying into the air and falling back down, like the first rain of spring.

* * *

 Jane was sore in more places than she could count. Simple actions like moving the finger on her bad hand hurt far too much, though the fire made it all feel a bit better. Still, she dared not complain, not even in the chamber of her thoughts where only she knew how she felt.

Not when Timothy was dead because of her.

She felt a pang deep within her, like a hot lance pressing against her core. Jane squeezed her bandaged hand as hard as she could until the feeling went away.

"Stop that" Gunther chastised when he saw what she was doing. He sighed as if annoyed by her gesture, or maybe it was her overall presence that vexed him. "You will make matters worse if your wounds becomes infected." He sat down on the opposite side of her, hands near the fire to keep them warm in the cooling night, but his eyes were somewhere else.

They stayed silent for moments longer, more than Jane cared to count until finally she opened her mouth again to speak. Her mind was buzzing, and she was sure she was the last person he wanted to hear from tonight and possibly tomorrow, and even after that. But she could not help herself; she needed to tell him now, before she regretted it and chose to never talk about it again. There was a heaviness here she could not bear, one that would eat them both alive slowly. She needed to amend that.

"I am sorry."

"Jane…"

"If it were not for me then Timothy—"

"Jane."

"He was your squire and I—I—"

"I do not need your pity party. I do not need your useless reminders, and I do not need your after-thought guilt" Gunther snapped, shooting her a heated glare that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He gave himself some time, eyes closed as if his head was spinning. Finally he sighed. "What I need to know is why you did not listen to me?"

The shame of answering was enough to make her look away, and when she did not Gunther scoffed and looked away too, as if disgusted. She much preferred that look compared to the one he gave her yesterday, the one of sheer horror and disappointment. He had comforted the boy in his final moments. Jane did not know Gunther could look so sad either.

It made her stomach knot again.

"Because I do not trust you" she finally said, meeting glances with him "Perhaps I never have trusted you…not fully. When I look at you Gunther, I still see the boy I used to know. The one who cheated and lied and was far too selfish to make good decisions. We never--we have grown beside one another yet..." she swallowed, suddenly feeling her throat and mouth dry up "…yet nothing has really changed between us."

Gunther shook his head dismissively, much like she expected him to. It was not because he could not believe what she was saying; moreover, it was the opposite. It was exactly what he was expecting her to say.

"I suppose you are right, I cannot say I like you any much more than I did before. You still as stubborn and as pigheaded as ever."

She knew he meant for those words to hurt with the way he said them. "That is true." She did not dare say otherwise, not that she disagreed, at least not this time. "I know I am difficult to deal with. I apologize."

Gunther scoffed again. "If you would learn that not everyone is against you Jane—that _I_ am not against you—then perhaps you would not have to rely so heavily on your instincts. We are a team now Jane, is that so difficult for you to see?"

"Sometimes" she admitted.

There was more silence between them, while Gunther poked at the fire with a stick, lifting the end to watch it burn.

"Do you know? It brings me no pleasure in watching you suffer anymore. Especially over the death of someone we cared about. These things…they just happen. We cannot predict who will live or die or why it happens or when or how" he finally said, frowning.

"But if I can prevent it then I can—"

He shot her another glare.

"I mean…if _we_ can lessen it with our distrust…then we should" she sighed "we should both…perhaps…learn to work together more."

"We? You are the one making all the mistakes."

Jane felt a sense of dejection until she realized the minuscule mirth in Gunther's eyes, a small smirk playing his lips.

"Gunther…"

"I accept your apology Jane" he added more earnestly, putting out the small flame by pressing the stick's end to the dirt "it is not easy having the death of a fellow soldier on your shoulders. I do not like the thought of adding to one's suffering over it. I know how that feels."

"If you accept my apology, then will you let me continue it? There is…so much I feel I must say."

He nodded somewhat hesitantly. She could tell he was uncomfortable sharing emotions, he had always been, but at least he allowed her this much.

"It is funny in a way. We have been through so much together, and yet we cannot seem to see eye to eye. I often remember hating you, but never quite remember when it had all started. I sometimes ask myself why it had to be this way between us…" when she could not finish her thoughts Gunther smiled, albeit sadly.

"Lasting impressions Jane" he responded "they are rather haunting. I cannot say I am not to blame either. I have not made life particularly simple for you."

Jane wanted to retort that, to say he did nothing wrong and blame herself again, but that in itself would not be the truth. She would be remiss in believing that she would have been able to trust Gunther much more easily if he had not disillusioned her time and again.

"I am trying--to change that is. It is not quite as simple as I believed it to be. Sometimes the shortcuts in life, the lies, they just make it all...easier." His lips drew tightly together in a thin line, as if refraining himself from saying more. She had caught him doing that sometimes, and at times she would wait to see if he continued until she grew frustrated and dropped the subject altogether. Hearing him now speak so gently and forlornly, she began to understand that perhaps some things were best left unsaid. There was more to him, it was merely a shame that she was seeing that now.

"I do not know you…not really" she admitted aloud "yet I have judged you time and again, and perhaps unfairly more times than I care to admit to. I am sorry for never really giving you the fair chance you deserved."

He looked at her with an expression she could not read. "I suppose we are mostly the same then, but changing, somehow."

"Slowly but surely" she smiled "For the better? I hope...now?"

"I believe so." He answered with a small smile of his own. After a while, he picked up the stick in his hand, lit the end and raised it to her "To fair chances then?"

Jane's smile grew, she could feel her cheeks reddening as she picked up a stick of her own with her good hand, touching her end with his until hers too was ablaze.

"To fair chances."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH. What a hoot! I'm having so much fun already for Janther Week :D
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's participated so far!
> 
> If anyone wants more information regarding the event please see the link below!
> 
> As for me, I wanted to write about both Jane and Gunther going through something like metanoia. I always kind of headcanon them as getting along by the time their adults and really knowing each other, so I wanted to play contrary to that idea. This is just the cusp of change that will take place between these two, and I felt something heavy should have caused it. I was going to go more in depth with Timothy and them talking about him, but I decided that I would just let that happen some other time in a universe where I don't have to write about it LOL.


	2. Phosphenes (Quote)

Gunther stopped at the top of the stairs to take the scene in. Scattered around the smoke-filled lounge were the finest set of men this country could ask for, and God help him if the sight of them laughing and drinking didn't put a smile on his face. His dark eyes scanned the sea of uniforms and suits to find the man he was looking for, stopping briefly to make a mental note to talk to the gal performing on stage, and luckily for Gunther it didn't take him long to find that man. He heard him before he saw him really, just laughing a little louder than the rest. When Gunther did spot the loud redhead, he was waving a drink in the air with one hand and shaking some poor sap's shoulder in the other. Making his way down a bit more eagerly than he should have for such an occasion, Gunther entered the buzzing madness.

"Breech!" Ivon roared first, his face almost the color of his hair due to obvious intoxication. Before Gunther could really do much to prevent it, Ivon took his hand with a lion's grip and gave it an even, strong shake. He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt at least a bit-but he'd never admit it aloud. Army men weren't allowed to cry over handshakes-and much of anything else-unless they wanted to be pestered for the rest of their lives.

"Ivon, you Scottish bastard" Gunther smiled as he shook the redhead's hand with equal enthusiasm. "The party's just started and you're already drunk. Can't say I'm too taken aback."

"Ah ye sly devil, don't go making fun of meh. I may be a bit tipsy, but I'm clear as day" Ivon got uncomfortably close to him, winking as a bit of Ward 8 spilled from his glass.

"Oh geez" Gunther laughed, gently pushing him back "you smell worse than you look."

This seemed to have amused something in Ivon, who roared with laughter and gave Gunther a hard pat on the back. His hands had always been big and brutish, and Gunther could have sworn he heard something inside of his body rattle at the contact.

"Listen, it's great seeing you" Gunther started while trying to look for a drink of his own. It was just his luck that every waiter who had one was as far away from him as possible. "I wanted to talk about a strategy I had in mind, something that'll really come in handy at Aachen. I'm telling you, I spent all night musing this over; those Nazis won't see it coming."

Ivon shook his head with an air of amusement to him. "Ay lad, always the same. Ye've got war on the brain again. Ye ready to go back out on the field, is that it? To bleed and suffer? Cravin' to play with Death's teat?"

"I wouldn't say it like that" Gunther smiled, looking down at the floor then around the building to stop himself from laughing, before finally meeting eye to eye with Ivon. "I just—"

"Listen lad" Ivon said with a relative calmness to him "tomorrow's a new day. I'll be headin' back to meh house one last time, then straight to Greece for an invasion of meh own. I'm sure there'll be plenty of excitement there. But tonight— _tonight_ is for drinking" Gunther didn't know if he meant it on purpose, or if he merely forgot he still had a drink in his hand, but Ivon downed the rest of his Ward 8 in one gulp "and enjoying ourselves. It isn't every day we get a chance like this."

"I suppose so" Gunther acceded, the hesitation still in his voice, before he more confidently corrected "Yes, yes, you're right." Though he didn't really mean it.

"Then  _enjoy_  yerself lad" Ivon pressed the empty glass to Gunther's chest before turning his head to look around for another drink, and a mumbling a curse when he realized how far away they all were.

It wasn't that Gunther didn't want to enjoy himself or have others do so either. After all, he loved- _loved_ watching his comrades talk and smile with ease, not seeing those expressions of uncertainty and dread for one night was more than any corporal could ask for. Still...something yearned inside him to go back in action. This was pleasant, but it was like he had an itch he couldn't scratch. It just bothered him on a trivial level.

Was there something wrong about that?

"Speaking of youngsters who don't enjoy themselves" Ivon muttered with a quick nudge.

Gunther turned to see what he was referring to and noticed Jane Turnkey at the top of the steps. Or at least who he  _thought_  was Jane Tunkey, because he had certainly never seen her like  _this_  before. Her normally unruly hair was done up in a tight do, with some curls hanging freely. The chapped lips which she complained so much with, were painted a crimson red and turned downward in a frown. Her body was hugged by a simple, beaded gown-though by her standards he was sure it was over embellished. The color was a scintillating white, sparkling in the dim lights of the chandelier.

It looked stunning…on anyone  _but_  Jane.

The white was far too close to her pale skin, and made her appear almost ghostly; certainly, it was not her color. Even the red of her lips was a bad choice. What redhead wears red lipstick? She looked something like a mime to him, and he chuckled at the mental image. He'd be lying if he didn't admit that he had imagined what she would've looked like in something other than the grimy, pickle-colored pants and combat boots she always wore. Though now that he saw her in something more  _delicate,_ he couldn't help but feel—well—disappointed. It wasn't quite the transformation he was expecting.

He turned back to Ivon and shrugged, a sour expression on his face. "I'm surprised she even showed up at all, though I could care either way."

"Well then you wouldn't mind meh waving her over here then, would ye lad? She looks like she's in need of some company." As soon as Ivon began to raise his hand, Gunther grabbed it firmly and shot him a tense smile.

"My dearest companion, please reconsider that action or it might just be the last one you ever make."

That made Ivon roar with laughter again, and Gunther peaked nervously behind him to see if Jane had noticed. She hadn't, that somewhat anxious expression as she discreetly looked for a familiar face in the crowd was still present. Gunther huffed a short sigh of relief. Ivon would be the death of him.

Jane wasn't someone he liked to deal with much-or at all really. For now, she was the only American soldier in his platoon, initially brought over by the US to help the British forces during aerial strikes. She was deemed one of the best pilots in her country, and despite much backlash from the Americans and the British, she somehow managed to join the Air Force. He had to give her some form of credit he supposed, because the command there seemed to love her now. As it turns out, the girl flew a Grumman F6F Hellcat as if she was born in one. The reports showed that she had one of the highest success rates in dogfighting, and a ridiculous twenty-three victory score in her short time as a pilot. They even gave her ownership of her own Hellcat aircraft.

_Dragon_  she called it. He scoffed.

The army practically had to yank her away from them when the time to transfer came. She was also considered a great soldier, training under Sergeant Boarmaster herself—but Gunther could've cared less. Women didn't belong in the war, breaking bones and watching men die. It was far too much for their frail emotions to handle. No, Gunther was not in agreement whatsoever of this new madness the Axis decided to partake in. Young, civilized women belonged in the kitchen, aiding the men by raising their children, and being a comforting support to come home to, not whatever Jane was. Or whatever she  _thought_  she was, because she certainly did believe she was s _omething_  with the way she spoke back to him.

Heaven help the father who raised her, because the girl had a mouth and she liked to use it. He couldn't count the numerous times they had exchanged heated words, or when she tested his commands. If the army wasn't so hellbent on keeping her, he would've kicked her out of his platoon months ago, helpful or not!

And she was…helpful, more than that actually, and it was that realization that made him loathe her all the more. She was like a needle in his spine that he couldn't ignore or take out.

Well, he was determined to ignore her for tonight. He wouldn't look once more at Jane Turnkey even if it killed him.

"Sir Breech" a voice rang from behind, and Gunther turned to see Boarmaster there in a tux of his own and a cigarette in his hand. The man offered his free hand and Gunther shook it in earnest. Finally, a sophisticated head in the room. Theodore cleared his throat "Sir Mackay" he continued, turning his attention to Ivon who was distracted by the lounge singer on stage.  _Bat bladders_ , he'd noticed her too. Not that Ivon was much of a competition for him, but he wouldn't make it easy to approach her now that he had his eyes on her; he was as territorial as a dog.

"Oh! Erm-no need for the formalities Theodore" Ivon replied with a twitch of his moustache "It's great seein' ye! 'Specially in something so fancy" he chuckled.

"Yes well…it isn't every day that we're invited to such a display of elegancy. We should do our best to look the part of gentlemen."

From somewhere in the room he'd heard it, Jane's laughter. It rang like an alarm in the air, and it took him a great deal of willpower to not turn to the sound. He looked at both men near him, but neither seemed to notice. His skin tingled with displeasure.

"Even if we're as far from that as could be?" Ivon nudged Gunther and he smiled in turn, brought back into the conversation. Theodore merely shook his head, but it wasn't with his usual air of contempt.

"Sergeant" Gunther waited until Ivon turned his attention elsewhere, and spoke in a more hushed tone just in case "I have a plan pertaining to the invasion of Aachen, and perhaps if I could run it by you—"

But Theodore did exactly what he was dreading he'd do, he shook his head. "My boy, a day of planning is a day of working, but every man needs his day of resting. Even you, Gunther Breech."

He hated it when he spoke in that poetic way of his. How many proverbs could one man know in a lifetime?

"You've been working hard Gunther, harder than any youngster I've seen" Gunther's mind immediately flashed to Jane, and he smirked knowing that it was  _him_  who had gotten such a compliment. He had worked hard, beyond that. He'd pushed himself to his breaking point repeatedly and come back a stronger, albeit more fragmented version of himself. He needed to prove himself after what his father had done. He needed to show that he was nothing like him, not now, not anymore. The thought pained him, and either way he shouldn't have been thinking about his father or Jane at all. Thinking of her always led him to darker places, so she was better off ignored for the night. "However, take this night to find some rest both physically and mentally. The time for strategies and battle will come again."

"Yes Sergeant" he nearly sighed. "Do you mind then?" the young man asked, pointing to the cigarette in the older man's hand. Without saying much else, Theodore took out another cigarette, helped him light it, and entered some conversation Ivon had pulled him into. Gunther took the longest inhale of his life, only letting the smoke out when he felt the pang of his headache leave him.

"I'm going for a drink" he said to no one in particular, though Ivon was quick answer him.

"Get meh one too lad!"

From the flush creeping on his neck, Gunther thought it best to "forget" he'd asked him that. The last thing he needed was to help carry Ivon out of the gala all the way to his home. There were still many regrets that haunted him from the last time he did that. Plus, if he was lucky he would be leaving with a piece of arm candy for the night instead. The thought alone was a perk in his spirit, but he was very rusty when it came to dating. Hell, he couldn't even think of the last time he went on a date. Was it high school maybe? No, there was that gal he met in Liverpool shortly before his deployment. A cute, young waitress who was worth the overpriced scones and tea. Maybe after the war was over he should go back and check to see if she's still there. He honestly couldn't even remember her name, just that she was short, dark eyed, and a natural…redhead.

He grimaced. Perhaps he wouldn't visit her after all.

Gunther made his way through the crowd. He deserved a drink. The cigarette helped, but a little extra kick would be good for him. He disliked knowing that Ivon and Theodore had a point. It didn't seem like anyone had any plans to talk about strategy tonight; apart from the occasional gasconade and crude jokes he caught as he passed by soldiers, war was far from everyone's chatter. Occasionally he stopped by to acknowledge one of his men with a small salute, or to meet their sweethearts ("Careful now Nancy, this one'll steal you away before you even know it. He's a crafty bogweevil, Breech" they'd tease). Hell, after a while Gunther even found himself tapping his foot to the beat of the trumpets, letting the rhythm sway him. He stopped only when the bright flash of a camera went off beside him. A sweet couple had posed for a picture, but Gunther denied taking one himself.

_Jackpot!_

It wasn't the bar, but Gunther spotted a server holding one last Sidecar a few feet away from him. He quickened his step to not miss this one because damn it all if this drink escaped his grasp! Luckily for him, the server hadn't been faster than Gunther, unluckily for him, someone else had been. Gunther witnessed as a slender hand plucked the drink off the tray and brought it towards her. Even more unluckily, that hand belonged to Jane Turnkey.

He watched in almost sheer agony as Jane took a sip of the Sidecar without much regard to him or anyone around her. It was only after a couple seconds of staring that she seemed to notice him with a small startle.

"Breech."

He should've ran when he had the chance, blasted be the drink and all, he should've turned around and snuck into the crowd. Now he had no choice but to face her.

"Turnkey" he returned, trying to not shoot poison through his gaze. She hadn't done the act on purpose, but even her ignorance was annoying. He took another inhale of smoke to cool the edge off, and maybe Jane took it as a sign to continue because she took a couple steps toward him.

"Have you seen Sergeant Boarmaster? I've been looking for his company."

"He's with Ivon near the west side of the building."

"Oh."

He cleared his throat, looking for some small talk that would fill the awkward silence between them. "I wasn't…expecting you to come. You look" he paused, trying—actually  _trying_ —to think of something nice to say "nice." The lack of earnestness was apparent from the glare Jane gave him. He noticed the way her free hand clenched into a fist and wondered how often she'd thought of punching him.

"Thanks" she curtly managed to say instead. She didn't return the compliment. Instead her fist went through a slow series of clenching and unclenching before she spoke again. "I'd heard there was a victory in Paris. Its liberation has brought a lot of joy to the Europeans."

"Why wouldn't it?" Gunther shrugged "It's the city of love after all. We're just lucky that General von Choltitz didn't burn the city to the ground before surrendering like he did."

"Luck?" Jane scoffed "We didn't win Paris back by  _luck_. It was all skill. The tactics employed by the Allies are all coming into effect."

"Yes, but we also faced a great deal of casualties from our battle in Normandy. Face it Turnkey, if the Germans weren't getting so sloppy we would've lost far more that day. Not to mention that not all the French will be glad to see us. There was a great estimated amount of…civilian casualties that I'm sure won't be easily overlooked."

"Despite what you might think, I'm not naïve Gunther" Jane already looked exasperated from their conversation. "All I'm saying is that the war is turning to our favor. I'm sure the French are more than grateful for this change. Soon enough things will go back to being the way they were. Our men in arms will see to that."

"That's the problem with you Yankees" he spat dismissively with a shake of his head, taking a drag of his cigarette "you always think you can just change the world through will power and balls alone."

Jane shook her head, smiling bitterly. In one swift movement she took the cigarette from his hands and took a drag of her own. The action surprised Gunther, but he didn't say anything of it.

"I have no balls Breech,  _that's_  the problem."

He detested that she always had something clever to say. Whether it was a quick quip or a comeback that flew right over his head, Jane always finished the conversation. He'd never once seen her speechless-but he was willing to try.

"Care for a dance?"

The expression on her face was priceless. Where was that cameraman when he needed him? This was a momentous occasion. He could read it in the papers now: "The Day Jane Turnkey Was Silenced." It practically made him a national hero.

"Close your mouth Jane or you'll catch flies" her mouth snapped shut while her eyes shot him the foulest of looks. "So? Come now, don't tell me you can loop through the skies with that Dragon of yours, but you can't dance?"

"I can dance" Jane crossed her arms in front of her chest childishly "It's just…been a while, that's all."

"I'm sure you'll do just fine" he insisted, putting out his cigarette on an abandoned drink nearby. It was partially a lie, because there was nothing more Gunther would've loved to see than Jane and her two left feet on the dancefloor. The brunette stuck his arm out for her, and tentatively or maybe crossly, Jane took it.

"That's the spirit."

She finished the drink, placing it back on an empty tray a waiter carried off as he hurried passed them. It was done with ease, and he held back from smacking his forehead. A short-lived win was still a win, after all.

An upbeat jazz piece began to play, lifting several people out of their chairs and onto the dancefloor. There was some relief in knowing that they wouldn't be the only ones on the floor. He'd hate it if his men were to witness this exhibition. The teasing would be endless. "Well, I'll give you Americans the benefit of knowing that you did right by inventing jazz. I must say it's probably one of the few good things that originated in your country."

"Thank you" Jane said with a sly smile, placing her hand on top of his as they began to walk towards the dancefloor. "I'm still trying to find one good thing about Britain. No luck thus far."

"Har-har" he muttered in a monotone, placing his right hand on her hip while keeping the left hand entangled in her own.

Jane cleared her throat, and it took him a second to notice what she wanted. With a roll of his eyes he raised his hand to her mid-back, and soon the two found their rhythm in the music. They stepped to the tune well enough, the few of Jane's curls that stuck out were bouncing lively with each small step. She had much better coordination than he ever imagined, in other words, he knew she had good coordination out on the field; her movements always swift and purposeful, but he never figured she would also bring that into dancing. Jane, a good dancer of all people? He never would've imagined. But there she was in front of him, looking him dead in the eyes as her feet worked with his, her turns executed tastefully and her hips swinging with—wait no— _do not think about her hips. This is Jane for Christ's sake._

As if she somehow noticed she entered his mind, Jane spoke up.

"I heard you're joining us on our invasion in Aachen." Jane had jumped at the chance to help the Americans, never one to really let go of her country.

"Yes actually. I'll be helping to oversee some of its preparation" he tried to repress a gloating smile "in fact, I have a strategy I devised yesterday that I plan to share with Sergeant Major Kippernook first thing tomorrow."

"Is that so?" This time Gunther couldn't help but smile at the look of surprise Jane let peak out of her usual seriousness. Was she genuinely curious, impressed even?

"Yes. It has to do with our timing during the infiltration. If all goes according to plan, then the Germans will be running for the hills."

"Go on then."

Of course,  _she'd_  want to speak strategy with him when no one else did. Jane was like him in that regard, always eager to stay in the circle of battle, never one to stay still. Normally he would've enjoyed that quality in any other person, but because she was  _Jane,_  he was suddenly feeling like he didn't want to share any of his plans. In fact, the desire to chat about it had left him completely.

"Sorry Jane, top secret information. I wouldn't dare compromise the mission by gossiping now of all places."

She scoffed with an unattractive expression, backing away from him enough so that he could again see the material of her dress glisten in the light of the chandeliers. Jane was far from the most attractive woman here, but maybe he did have to admit that the dress did hug her shape in a flattering manner—even if it still wasn't her color.

"You're impossible" she muttered as they were brought back together, much closer than before so that he couldn't quite see her face when she said it over his shoulder, but he could well enough hear the irritation in her voice. "You know fine and well that the Germans won't make it easy."

"It's never easy" he admitted with a bit more seriousness than intended, turning with her for a moment in silence. They'd lose men, probably thousands more of them. Infiltrations as big as this one didn't occur without its causalities. Every success needed its sacrifice. If they succeeded at all.

"It helps knowing that you're out there doesn't it? Fighting alongside them" there's something gentle and distant about her voice, and she places a hand tenderly on the back of his neck as the music slows. Surprisingly it produces a shiver from him, and he hopes she won't notice it. "War it's so heart-wrenching, but when you're out there giving it your all—giving your comrades your all, it makes it worth it somehow. I couldn't live with myself if I stayed waiting in the comfort of my own home, waiting around while the world bled for me." She recited the words as if she'd thought them a million times.

He held her more tightly now, too embarrassed to let her see the dumbfounded expression on his face. She had plucked the words right out of his brain and said them far more eloquently than he ever could've. Gunther couldn't stand the men—the  _cowards_ —that barked orders and left others to die. From the comfort of their manors and mistresses they played with military men as if they were chess pieces. Gunther would've rather died a thousand times than know he sat back and didn't fight, didn't lay himself bare, and  _give his humanity_  for his country. For his people.

"What do you fight for Turnkey?" he asked when he was better able to compose himself, pulling her back to watch her much more intently. There was a certain atmosphere between them now that he'd never sensed before.

_Never_? Why did that feel like a lie?

"I fight for my right to be able to fight."

"That's noble enough" he chimed with a perk of his lips. "I fight for the fame and fortune."

Her eyes rolled for what seemed like the millionth time that night, but now there was a small smile peeking through the disdain. It was rather charming, in a strange sort of way.

"Not afraid of death then Turnkey?"

To his surprise she laughed, a sharp snort escaping her lips quicker than she could repress it. She clamped her mouth into a tight line after that, but the mirth was still present.

"And just what's so bloody funny about that?"

"Oh, simply thinking about how good at conversation you are Breech. Do you usually ask women these pleasant questions? They must think you a charmer."

He couldn't help but smile himself, somehow embarrassed that she'd brought it up.  _Great, even Jane thinks I've lost it._

"Of course, why do you think all these men are afraid of leaving their wives alone with me? Nothing turns a woman on more than thinking about the undeniable truth that we'll all one day cease to exist."

Jane smiled more brightly, her teeth showing under the red of her lips. He found it appealing...in a weird sort of way. The fact that he could make her smile to begin with was surprising; every time he had encountered Jane it was all stone and gunpowder between them.

"I did hear that pessimism is a character trait for most Brits. Though I'd agree that there's nothing more pleasing than the sound of a Devil's piano—at least compared to whatever's playing now."

"I'll give you that one—but here I thought you were having fun?" he asked with a raise of a brow. Something he most definitely didn't practice often as a child to be able to use it effectively as an adult.

"I…am" she said hesitantly, spinning elegantly under his arm "despite my unfortunate, current circumstance of dancing with a beef-brain. A erm…very  _nimble_  beef-brain."

"You're far too kind."

He dipped her far lower than he meant, her hands clinging to him for support, but her face was still calm as if she trusted him. The closeness between them was tangible, and there was a certain static in the air that left him a bit in need of breath. There was something in her eyes that was different tonight too. Was it a trick of the light? The angle allowed the light from above to shine on her frame, and like earlier, she was almost glowing. Her eyes a brilliant green he hadn't noticed before. Or was it the way she was looking at him? An expression that read vulnerability and...and something else he couldn't quite understand.

Gunther brought his face in closer, as if closing the distance between him would give him all the answers. He felt neither disgusted nor disdained, but almost entranced, like a gravity within Jane was pulling him inward. He wasn't fighting it, that is until-

"Uhm, Gunther?"

And it was over. He was snapped awake.

"Oh urm...yes…" he lifted her a bit clumsily, managing to make her ankles wobble unsteadily.  _What in the bloody blazes was that? Was I about to…?_  He looked at Jane bewilderedly, though luckily for him she was too busy trying to put her shoe on correctly to notice it. Gunther felt a wave of mortification wash over him and prayed to any god listening that his face hadn't reddened.

"My apologizes, it must be…" frantically, his brain searched for an answer but nothing seemed to stick.

"The alcohol?" Jane chimed. There was a feigned casualness in her voice. Was she just as flustered as he felt?

"Yes, that's it" he lied quickly. He hadn't drank at all. Still, he was willing to say just about anything in that moment.

"Well" Jane straightened out un-existing wrinkles in her dress, or was she wiping off sweat from her hands? "I'm excited to hear of your plans for Aachen. They have to cave in someday right? It won't be long till the Germans bite the dust."

Not knowing what to do with his hands, he placed them in his pockets. "Perhaps that zealousness isn't always annoying Turnkey. I'd like to see it in the battlefield next week. That is, if you can fight as well as you talk."

She flashed him a sly smile, before turning her back to him. "You very well know I can, Breech. I'll see you on the field."

"It's a date" he teased, watching her figure retreat out of the dancefloor, and up the stairs without looking back once.

Gunther stood there longer than he should've before he turned away too, walking hurriedly from the dance floor towards the bar, and trying not to notice how some people had stopped to stare. He could  _really_ use that drink now. His vision was dizzy. To keep his head from spinning any longer, he shut his eyes...but he could still see her there.

Jane in her white dress, shining like the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant this to be 2K at max LOL. This is for the Day 7 quote:
> 
> "He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking."
> 
> ― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina
> 
> Originally I wasn't planning on doing a WWII era piece, but I like that I did. It was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it.


	3. Rove (Confluence)

 

 

An explosion boomed nearby, quickly followed by a stream of gunshots. The intensity of the blast sent another wave of debris into the air. Smoke piled on top of smoke, all mixing together into a dense blanket that covered any possible trace of life. Gunther didn't care; he didn't need to see right now, only listen. His heartbeat had synced with the thrumming in his head as he calmly sat with rifle in hand and a glaze over his eyes. Just waiting and listening.

Glass shattering.

Screaming.

Gunfire.

Shaking.

Brief silence.

More blasts.

Crying.

Bullets hitting the blockade.

Rain? Or something like rain.

Silence.

Breathing.

He took in a breath and held it there. With a sudden jerk he turned, sat up, positioned his rifle and shot out. He'd missed before, but this time he struck a German soldier in the shoulder, then the other shoulder, and finally in the chest until the man dropped to his knees. Gunther didn't need to see him fall, he just moved his attention to the soldier by the shattered window four stories up and shot at him. He missed as the man took cover and Gunther let out a curse. The battered building was holding up better than he anticipated. He could feel several bullets whisk past his head, a little too close for comfort. He finally let the breath out and moved back into cover.

It was only then that Gunther noticed that the soldier next to him had been shot dead. His empty eyes staring at the murky sky and beyond that into something endless. Cadet Davis. Gunther didn't really know him, he was an American soldier he'd worked with once only a couple weeks ago as they trailed across the fields near Aachen before reaching the city. He didn't know most of these men, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy as he stared at the boy's neck, exposed and bleeding still from the bullet wound. That's really what he was, a boy, barely nineteen years of age. He'd have to sign a letter to send to his family, something that said he'd fought admirably and died with honor. They all said the same thing; he signed about a million of them by now.

It wasn't long before he and Davis were covered in more smoke, both painted a murky grey from the smog. Gunther looked at what was in front of him, or at least what was left of it. The city had been torn down into nothing but a shell, emptied stores and crumbled houses. He couldn't help but wonder what it looked like before all of this.

As a child he was never allowed to visit the Nazi sympathizing nations, and so he had gone most of his life without experiencing the freedom of travel that those before him were privileged to have. He'd only seen Berlin once, many years ago in passing, after taking a late train to nowhere in specific. ' _Anywhere_   _except_   _home'_ he'd thought that night in a lull. Not that,  _that_  place was really home to begin with, but he didn't know it then. It was a beautiful city, nothing like dreary London with its littered streets and its scowling faces. The people seem friendly, smiling as they strolled. Gunther thought he could've lived in a place like that. He was young, ignorant of what real torture was being held behind the closed doors of those charming houses. A smile didn't mean much if you were walking on eggshells. He still remembered the impression the Nazi banners made on him, how red they still looked despite the dark of night, like blood.

"Commander" he heard beside him, and Gunther turned in his head to find a serious face staring back at him.

It was Jethro, who looked worse for the ware with his normally pale face covered in grime and dirt. His eyes were a shocking blue in contrast to the rest of him, and one of the only details that stood out amongst the muck. Gunther had his doubts about him in the beginning, a German in the Allied forces wasn't something anyone heard of often. Hell, he had to set an example of two of his men after they had almost beaten the guy in some petty ambush scheme. Gunther's toes still ached from kicking their asses so hard, but it had to be done. Smith was under his care by orders, and even if he didn't like it or even trust him fully, Gunther would obey orders.

"The third infantry should be here soon Smith. We just need to hold ground a little longer."

"Yes but...a lot of men...dying" he sounded worried, or as worried as Gunther had ever seen him. He was right to be too, they were losing men at an alarming rate. The trek onto shore, through the forests, and into Aachen has been a long one. Gunther knew they'd face heavy losses the moment the plan came to his mind, and the reality of the situation was that there was nothing they could do about it. Men were dying of injuries, disease - hell he'd seen them die of fatigue - but he wasn't about to drawback. They'd just have to wait for reinforcements.

"We'll just have to tough it out."

Smith nodded as if he was expecting the answer. He glanced over at the carcass beside Gunther, moved it to the side as if it were a rock in his path, and sat next to him with weapon in hand. The next several hours were a blur of repetitive movements. Firing, covering, firing, covering.

Gunther had shot two more soldiers since then, Smith had finally taken out the German by the window and he had done it with such ease that Gunther couldn't help but feel a prick at his pride. He repressed a frown. No need for babyish tendencies, he would leave those for Jane.

Her name made him look to the skies. She had been here -  _there_  - several days prior, bombing the city. It had been a strategic advantage to have their best shock the Germans. Most of the calamity had been caused by their aircrafts, along with the tank. He didn't have the pleasure to see her in her element, but from what he'd heard she had danced through the skies and attacked viciously in that Dragon of hers. Now it was almost impossible to see the sky beyond the smoke, but occasionally if he tried hard enough, Gunther could see a sliver of blue in between the folds of yellow and grey. It was the first time he'd felt something close to peace that day.

Gunfire was exchanged for several more hours, one grenade had blown off an American soldier's leg and he'd screamed all the way as they carried him out of the line of danger. Gunther could see the exhaustion on the men's face and his heart raced as he feared the worst.

_We're not going to make it before the third infantry arrive._

Yet, just as the thought left his mind he found himself proven wrong. The first and possibly only time he felt happy being proven wrong in his life. Beside him he could hear Smith let out a breath of relief. The sight of backup had scared the few remaining German soldiers into retreating further into the city, it was a move they regretted doing but they'd be stupid not to. When the coast appeared clear, Gunther ordered the men to stand; this was their freedom.

Sergeant Major Kippernook lifted a hand to stop the marching troops and saluted Gunther with such a sense of pride and respect that it almost brought the soldier to tears. He had stood his ground, defended his troops, done his job. That felt good. It felt more than that, but the words were lost somewhere in his buzzing mind. In lieu of tears, Gunther saluted his commanding officer and took a step back.

"We thank you for your service soldiers" Kippernook started in that regal manner of his. "The battle is far from over, there is still a lot of work to be done, but for now - rest. Soon victory will belong to the Allies."

The soldiers cheered, and Gunther swelled at seeing some of their tired faces brighten for a moment as if it was all forgotten.

"Sir, if I may" Caradoc gave Gunther the OK to proceed and they pulled off to the side as the soldiers began switching positions. "I'd like to update you on the status of the battle."

The two discussed the specifics, the number of casualties, the number remaining, ammo, until finally they were satisfied with the information. Supposedly the Germans had ran out of explosives about an hour back. That'd be a great advantage to them. Sadly, Gunther didn't receive the concrete answers he was looking for. If Caradoc believed that the war was won or that they had any type of advantage, he didn't let it slip out of his lips. Anything previously said to the troops appeared to be nothing more than pep talk. He didn't like that type of poppycock but he knew its place in war.

"Well done Breech" he gave Gunther a solid pat on the shoulder, which luckily didn't have the same weight of Ivon's hand. "Now get on that truck and I'll see you when the war's done."

"My apologies Sergeant Major" Gunther didn't hesitate but his heart pounded "I plan on sticking by."

"Gunther" Caradoc's tone was exactly what he'd imagined, serious and concerned the way a father's tone would be. Well, not  _his_  father of course. "You can't be serious boy. You've fought a good fight, but don't push it. Your body needs rest."

"I can't rest if I don't see this through" he maintained what he believed was very forward eye contact, usually this type of backtalk wasn't allowed in the military. His ass would be handed over on a silver platter if he didn't catch Caradoc on a good day; the man was noble, but he had his limits.

The military leader must've seen that Gunther wasn't taking a 'no' today, because he gave a deep sigh of contempt but nodded his head. "Alright, just don't do anything stupid" he pointed a finger closely to his face, in a way that  _did_  remind him of his father. "It'd be a damn shame if a good man was lost because of his pride."

Was it that? Gunther smiled a humoured, small grin. Sure he was prideful, but he stayed for more than that. So perhaps it was part honor, part pride that kept him so dedicated. Maybe part stupidity too.

"Yes sir." With a quick salute, Caradoc was on his way to the fresh soldiers. Meanwhile, Gunther turned his attention to his platoon. He gave several salutes and pats and other signs of admirable acknowledgement before helping them onto the trucks. Some groaned at him to come along, calling him a 'busy - body', 'work donkey' or 'show off'. He managed to somehow talk his way out of that one just in time to catch Smith overseeing the line of those who surrendered during battle. Many were German soldiers, but some were civilians, women even. Most of them glared at the blond with a hatred Gunther had seen many times as a child, something akin to disgust stirred in their eyes. Occasionally one would burst into a fit of rage, screaming something that Gunther recognized as ' _traitor_ ' or they'd spit on the ground near his feet, but Smith remained unfazed.

"Smith" Gunther placed a hand on his shoulder, which felt kind of strange since the German was taller and wider than him. "You're free to go. I'll stay and see to the rest of them."

"Okay" the German soldier gave him one final look. There was a suppressed emotion there, one of worry that lingered in the corners of his eyes and he opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. In lieu of words, he patted Gunther on the shoulder and walked away. He'd always been a quiet one, and though Gunther was skilled in the art of repression himself, he envied the blonde's calm temperament. Gunther had seen it in action time and again as they trekked through the forest. It was Smith's mastery in engineering that had been key in getting them to the city without much struggle. Gunther had never seen a man or creature alive destroy and rebuild so quickly, bridge after bridge until they made it into the fields. If he were to die, at least Gunther would remember him fondly, and with the look Smith gave him he seemed to believe Gunther was going to die.

If he did die he wouldn't mind it much. Better to die here than old and wrinkled, bent over in an armchair in some posh house with dusty trinkets. Gunther couldn't call the war his home - he wouldn't - not after everything he'd seen. What happened to those who lost themselves to  _this,_ who couldn't sleep, eat, drink without thinking,  _itching_  to go back only to become mad then die anyways. Sometimes it worried him how he couldn't adapt back in England. It was too quiet, too pleasant. Unsettling. The idea that he could lay his entire self to this bloodshed made his blood go cold. Sure there was a comfort in this, an excitement even, but he couldn't call it home. But the ideal picket fence in boring town wasn't home either.

Could he ever find that somewhere? Could he ever settle down and feel satisfied? He'd never really had a home, a house yes, but it was just four walls and a roof. A real home. It was something he'd always lacked, but it hadn't bothered him this badly since childhood.

A prisoner broke him from his thoughts when he grumbled something Gunther's way. His German was rusty, but by the look on his face it certainly wasn't a compliment.

"Get yer asses moving!" Gunther barked, cocking his gun "You'll find I'm not as forgiving!"

* * *

It wasn't long until Gunther was back under cover. This time closer into the center of town, a new environment to get used to but the rush was back. Of course his muscles still screamed for some release but his mind was going. This time he was alone, the soldiers beside him long dead and yet to be picked up. Shots were soaring over him, at times he could catch the spark of a bullet grazing a surface and he'd return in kind. Soon he was lost in his concentration, trying to aim for an enemy soldier whose head was peeking over a car. If only he could -

His body flexed and jumped. Someone had touched him. Reflexively he swung his arm out and pinned the threat the to the ground beside him; there was a brief struggle as Gunther reached for the knife saddled to his leg and raised it to the man's neck.

"Jesus."

Except it wasn't a man at all. It was Jane, staring up at him with an expression of annoyance as if he'd swatted her with a fly swatter instead of  _almost killed her_.

"Jane" Gunther's voice gave way to the surprise he felt at seeing her. He knew she was alive but he'd never expect to see her back on ground. At least not until it was all done with. The ravenette gave her a smile, it felt a little out of place on his lips but the feeling was genuine. Jane smiled in return and tried to sit up, but the knife didn't let her move much.

"Oh, apologies" he withdrew his knife and helped her back on her knees. Jane chuckled, not seeming to mind much.

"How embarrassing would that be? Making it through air combat only to be killed accidentally by your Commander."

"Well maybe you shouldn't sneak up on people."

The quaint expression on her face disappeared instantly, replaced by her usual anger. Gunther was somewhat sad to see it go. "I didn't, you just were just hell - bent on killing that Nazi - which you missed by the way. A lot."

"I wonder whose fault that was" he bit sarcastically, turning away from her to stare forward again.

"You must not be talking about me? I've been seeing you miss shot after shot for a while now."

How long had she been sitting there? "You were watching me? Admiring perhaps?" he smirked to avoid looking as embarrassed as he felt.

"Yeah, admiring how terrible you are at doing your job."

"Always have something to say" his eyes rolled, and for a split second he felt  _fine_. There was this brief sense of normalcy, like two friends - if they were friends, Gunther wasn't quite sure - catching up after not seeing each other.

"What're you doing here Jane?" he cast her a concerned glance. She looked like a boy with her red hair pinned up and tucked underneath her helmet, dirt all over her face. "Weren't you supposed to be feet - up in the base camp by now?"

"And you?" She looked a little sheepish but smiled it off. "You're still here. Why should I let you have all the excitement?" He opened his mouth to say something but she interrupted him. "I wouldn't just go packing. I couldn't stay still long enough thinking I could be doing more, you know?"

He didn't say anything, just looked at her for a while. Of course she'd do this to him. Wasn't that night enough, or did she have the goal of dumbfounding him regularly now. He hated to admit how similar they were. Absolutely hated it because he hated her. Right? Well, he didn't particularly like the way she looked back at him now, eyes attentive and lips slightly parted. They were cracked and irritated he noticed, like their usual selves and nothing like the night at the gala. But that looks of hers was still -

His chest felt strange, heavy, and it made him uncomfortable beyond belief. He turned away from her to face enemy territory and readied his gun. "Close your mouth Jane or you'll catch flies." He could hear her scoff and turn as well, her movements purposefully gruff. He almost felt like laughing, but stifled it - she did have a gun in her hands after all. Might as well not tempt her.

"I'm glad to see you" he said as nonchalantly as he could muster. Jane must've thought he was still being cheeky because even in his peripheral vision he could see her give way to a silent, snarky laugh. "I mean it. You're safe y'know? That's a...I'm just glad."

Jane didn't turn to look at him but muttered a quick "Thanks." It wasn't sarcastic or dismissive but maybe... flustered? She'd found it surprising and Gunther felt a bit insulted by that. Surely she should've known that he at least cared about each of his soldier's safety. Although, this time it was different somehow saying it to Jane, it was just...different.

Maybe he'd inhaled too much smoke today.

"Your men are - " he began, now rather desperate for a change of subject, but Jane didn't let him finish.

"Skilled? Zestful? Prepared - "

"Rambunctious" he corrected with a grin on his face. "Stubborn too. Must be an American thing."

Jane shot out, catching an enemy soldier who was trying to sneak past by surprise. He quickly retreated.

"Can't say it's just an American thing, after all, you're still here too Breech."

Gunther shook his head. He didn't like it when the mirror was pointed back at him, though this had been one of Jane's much nicer ways of using this tactic.

"And I'm glad you are" she muttered the last part like it physically hurt her to say it and it caused him to finally laugh.

"Champion save."

"I hate it when you say that" Jane scoffed, but their conversation was cut short as a grenade was launched into the air and landed several feet in from of their cover. Gunther's eyes widened and he and Jane took cover immediately, but the explosion still pushed their huddled bodies backwards. The area filled with smoke and there was a distant ringing in Gunther's ears that disoriented him.

' _Take a second then compose yourself_ ' he urged, finally finding his gun and crawling on his arms to better access the situation. He could barely see three feet in front of him, but Jane's shadowy figure made a distinct outline. As he moved closer he could see she was kneeling on her haunches, blood dripping from her head underneath her helmet. She didn't look too hurt, with a stern expression on her face and her gun in position.

"Jane!" They needed to move. The makeshift cover of steel and items had been blown to almost bits by the strike, and new cover was needed immediately. "We must retreat to the far-left side, there are - "

Jane cut him off, a bad habit of hers, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. He saw her mouth move but the ringing made it difficult to hear much of anything. He caught a "moving right", "spotted", "going after" and it wasn't long until he caught onto what she was saying.

"No! Jane this is an  _order_. We move to new cover  _now_! Don't you think about - " but she was already moving. Gunther almost growled, hitting the dirt with an aggravated fist. Just as he was starting to find some sort of agreeable qualities, Jane had to remind of why he absolutely despised her at times!

" _Disobedient, stubborn girl_ " Gunther mumbled as he moved in the direction of cover. He wouldn't try to go after Jane, it was far too risky to try and run after her during one of her reckless escapades. When he had the chance to Gunther ran, a trail of bullets flying past him with a rain of ' _clink clink_ ' sounds of impact. He felt as one grazed his shoulder and once he reached the wall he cursed. The wound was superficial, but the blood was already soaking through his clothes. There were also metal fragments sticking up and out of his arm in a messy zig - zag pattern. He groaned. Just about a week ago he'd been shot on the side, and he knew he couldn't take anymore careless risks.

"Commander" a soldier who Gunther didn't know approached him "it seems they've been hiding a stash of explosives we didn't know about. We thought they'd run out of grenades but - now we're not sure how much more there is."

Gunther shook his head; his immediate thoughts ran to Jane but he wouldn't let her cloud his mind. "No, there can't be much left. They've exhausted their resources and we've bombed the rest. I take this as a last resort. Hold positions for now, advance on my call."

He waited for the smoke to clear and shot out. It was just a threat, something to let them know that they were still alive and kicking, and hopefully something that might deter them from shooting one risky, stupid soldier. There was gunfire back and forth. The soldier who'd approached Gunther was shot in the arm a couple times but not without taking several men himself. The brave bastard pushed through, though Breech didn't know how. When the coast was clear he signaled them to wait as he advanced. Creeping against the wall, he rushed forward from point to point, only stopping briefly to make sure the coast was clear. From his new position Gunther could see the scatter of body parts and innards sprawled on the floor from the explosion. He felt a drop of something land on his neck and grimaced at the idea of rain. It'd set them even farther back, but when he touched the spot it turned out to be blood. No doubt there was something or  _someone_  up on the gutters that had began to leak.

Gunther rubbed his fingers together until the blood dissipated somewhere in the material of his glove. It was then that he heard strange clacking sound. At first it was faint but as it grew more rapid, Gunther grew more concerned. Was it a trap? He brandished his knife; a gun would do him no good if he was attacked in the dark. He entered the hollow building. As he grew closer to the sound, which now echoed against the walls, he could make out a figure but it was strange, deformed, and... shaking? Gunther hadn't seen anything like it, and for the first time his heart began to pound in his chest out of fear.

'Steady' he calmed himself, the grip on the knife tightening.

Whatever it was it hadn't heard him approach, simply shaking like it had been. It wasn't until he'd gotten close enough that Gunther realized what it was. A dead body. Now, he'd never been one to believe in ghosts or demons, maybe back in London when he was about five and had seen Nosferatu once and couldn't sleep afterward for two weeks. Instantly he felt a sense of relief wash over him, and he stood up albeit quietly. It was clear now that there was someone hidden underneath a dead body and whoever it was, was shaking like a leaf.

If it was one of his men, then Gunther would give him a reason to shake.

Gunther made a grab for the body from the side, yanking it off of the soldier in one quick tug. The man let out a  _whimper_ of all noises, tucked closer into a fetal position with his face buried in his knees and hands over his helmet. He wasn't dressed like a German. Gunther's eyes widened with anger. It was one of his.

"Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

At the sound of English the man looked up, though in reality he looked more like a boy with his reddened, tear soaked eyes. Gunther kneeled down to grab him by his shirt, giving him a rough shake.

"Are you in here hiding under a body like a coward while my men are out there dying?! You better hope a German doesn't walk through those doors soldier because I'd let him eat you alive!" The boy didn't say anything, but his face looked like a deer caught in headlights. The grime and blood covered his freckled face and his lips quivered, but none of it tugged at Gunther.

"Speak soldier!"

"A - a - ah" the boy's shaking hands covered his own in a very weak attempt to have him let go. Gunther would've punched him right there and then but he didn't have the time for that. "I - I'm sorry." His voice was shaking as much as he was. "I just - I - we - " he glanced over to the body that was now on the floor, his eyes watering again at the sight "wasn't supposed to."

Gunther sighed, easing his grip. He looked at the body on the floor and noticed the man's face had been blown apart, pieces of bone poking out of certain areas, an eye missing completely. He looked back at the kid and gave him another shake, but not as rough as he had beforehand. "Get up kid. You'll see much worse than this." The soldier did as told, getting up from his knees; he wasn't taller than Gunther but was much thinner and frail. He screamed draftee. An image of Davis flashed in his mind. The boy also had more dirt on him than any new infantryman should've.

"Left behind?" Gunther asked, noticing a dark pool of dried blood on the wrapping around his waist "Jesus, kid."

"Left?" the tanned boy said, touching his side as if noticing it for the first time. There was a hollow look in his eyes that Gunther knew led to trouble, and he snapped his fingers in front of his face until a sharpness returned.

"Yes, left. You should've been halfway to the base camp by now. You're lucky I even spotted you here or who knows, you would've been left completely." The boy scrunched his lips, deep in thought. His hand clenched deeper into his side in what Gunther believed was a realization of pain. Once the shock passed, the pain came back. It was always one or the other.

"Wanna keep fighting a war that's over?" Breech half joked, clearly picturing this poor sap doing something that stupid.

"I want to go home" the kid admitted, looking at Gunther guiltily. Normally the commander would've snapped some sense into him, tell him to man up, but the truth was that with his wound he was in no room to fight anyways.

"Well, you might just get your wish Private - ?" Gunther waited for his name.

"Gardener" as if remembering himself for the first time since their conversation, the soldier straightened his shoulders. Gunther could see a bit more of attentiveness in his eyes, but they were still rimmed with fear. "I'm sorry Commander, I just - "

"No need kid, no time really" Gunther interrupted because there  _was_ no more time for talk. Keeping inside was only safe for so long until they became sitting ducks. "I have to take you back, no choice. The wound's not gonna get us very far moving forward. Can you walk?"

"Yes" Gardener shifted the strap of his 98K rifle around his shoulder.

It'd be simple enough coming back the way he entered. In the distance Gunther could hear the ring of shots. They'd have to be quick.

"C'mon then" he urged as the two moved stealthily to the door again, but they didn't get far.

"Oh no!" Gardener cried, pushing Gunther back in the nick of time. Gunther jolted backwards as an M1 bayonet nearly took his nose off. The Private wasn't so lucky. He'd taken a sharp stabbing to his left rib; the blow knocking him flat on his side. The German soldier didn't give either one much time to react after that, continuing to swing wildly. Gunther tried to hold him by the arm but it was useless; he couldn't get a good grip. The soldier surprised him with a punch to the jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. Gunther reached for his own knife but was tackled to the floor. His head hit the concrete  _hard,_ leaving him disoriented and if it weren't for his helmet Gunther was sure he'd be dead. He could feel the hot trickle of blood pool around him as he wrestled the German, one hand trying to blind the man while the other attempted to push the knife away from his neck. The two struggled for dominance until it became apparent to Gunther that he'd lose. He looked to Gardener for help but he was still on the floor gripping his sides.

' _Maggots_!'

Gunther growled as he was forced to use both hands to fend off the knife, which had begun to pinch into the skin of his neck. He could feel the flesh giving way and splitting open, suddenly hot with blood.

" _Arhhh_!" Abruptly the Nazi was knocked over, a sickening  _crack_ sound echoing throughout the building. Jane stood behind him with her rifle in her hand, holding it like a baseball bat. Her eyes were frantic as they landed on Gunther. He felt his own eyes reflect that worry as he looked at her. She must've been out of ammo or gotten into some type of skirmish because she was fresh with scrapes. She opened her mouth to speak but let out a painful shriek instead. The crack sound, which Gunther previously believed had been the Nazi's skull, had been his helmet and while he was bleeding profusely from his nose, he was in no way out. He'd taken the small chance he had to stab Jane straight through the foot. He'd been in the process of getting back up when Gunther dove to pin him back onto the ground, and the two men struggled once more. Luckily, Gunther learned quickly and punched the man in the jaw as strong as his fist would let him. The first punch stunned him enough to give him the opportunity to wrestle the knife away from his hand. The second and third punch and every punch that came after that was out of sheer adrenaline.

The need to live. The need to kill.

The German pushed back, trying to stop him but it was useless. He had the upper hand now. The last punch was for Jane, for thinking he could even  _touch_  her. Finally, when his knuckles couldn't take it anymore he took the blade and shoved it into the man's head that to end it all. His breathing was the only sound after that. In and out. In and out. Ragged. His heart drummed at an exciting speed; he could feel its thrum vibrate his whole being. In and out.

Breech looked back to Jane but she was cradled over the young, tanned boy whispering something he couldn't hear to him. The blood on Gunther's hand was nothing compared to the one surrounding Gardener now. ' _He's dead_.' Maybe she felt him staring or maybe she read his thoughts because she looked right at him, eyes pleading.

"Help me."

* * *

Gunther lay back in the bed and re-adjusted himself but it was useless - there wasn't a single comfortable position in this God forsaken bed! If it could even be called that. Everything hurt when he moved this way and some things itched when he moved that way.

"This is useless" he grumbled to himself before finally turning over and placing his feet on the floor. He tried brightening the room with the only lamp in it but that wasn't much better either. No paperwork for him then. He sighed. He was just uncomfortable all around, bandaged up like a teepeed tree, aching, and stiffer than a board. He wouldn't be back in action for a while he'd been told. Another head injury like the one he received and he'd be in a coma for sure. He'd have to notify someone back at home that he wouldn't be on the field for much longer.

"I have to call..." but he paused. Who  _did_  he have to call? There was no one waiting to hear from him. Certainly he couldn't call his father; he was still on the run somewhere, trying to escape what Gunther knew was a just punishment for corroborating with the enemy. He scoffed with bitter amusement. All for what? A couple stashes. It was always about money for Magnus; he never cared about his son, never even gave a second thought as to what that might do to Gunther's position or reputation. The countless days he'd spent convincing government officials that he didn't know where his father was. It was all a huge mess, and like all huge messes Magnus made, he left Gunther to clean them up. Even if he could, Gunther wouldn't call him. The mere fact that his thoughts had trailed to his father infuriated and also saddened him. It was a stark reminder that he was without roots. Lonely. Without a home to come home to. If only he could've stayed longer at Aachen, even if his body broke into pieces.

He groaned. He didn't mean that, he just wasn't...thinking straight. Gunther tried to convince himself it was the head injury making him so crazy, but in truth he knew it was always his father that brought him to such a dark place. His hands gripped at the edge of the bed. When had his fingers started twitching like that? His head snapped to the door when he heard it click open, and he was surprised to find Jane there.

"May I?" she asked, possibly with more caution than he ever imagined she had.

He nodded but Jane just stayed at the doorway, hands fiddling nervously. Was she ill? If there was something Jane wasn't, it was shy. Gunther raised his eyebrows expectantly, but Jane didn't move. Was she waiting for a direct order? An official go - ahead?

"Bat bladders Jane, just come in already" Gunther imitated her eye roll the best he could. He thinks he did rather well at it actually. "I don't bite."

Jane scooted forward, well it was more liked hobbled really with the cast she had on her foot. Her toes peeked out but Gunther could see how swollen they were in comparison to an average sized foot. She closed the door behind her and walked to stand beside him. Strange, they'd never spoken in private before, did she have bad news about the boy?

"How's - " "I want to tha - " they started at the same time, shutting up quickly afterward.

"Sorry" Jane said in a way that made him believe it. Her hands were still fidgeting in a way that made him want to shake her. What was going on with her? She'd been acting strangely ever since they'd been dispatched from the clinic tent.

"I was just gonna ask how the kid was doing?"

"He's doing better" her words came out quickly and almost breathlessly. For the first time that day she smiled at him, a warm flush tinting her cheeks. She must've been very worried about him. Why did that make him feel...strange? A bit something like worried? He scolded himself for being so childish.

"That's good, I saw the nurse - the one with the braid - she was taking good care of him. Didn't leave his side since we got to the tent, but he didn't wake up by the time I left."

"He still needs a lot of rest. The nurse and him have history" she cleared her throat as if it were suddenly dry "I should clarify, they used to live in the same neighborhood, so she worries about him."

"And you?" Gunther tried to seem casual, leaning back slightly on the bed, though the question had been itching his curiosity. "You and the uh...kid have history?" When Jane kept quiet he took it as a yes, smiling a bit to not demonstrate any sign of - disappointment? What was that feeling he was sensing? And what did it matter anyways? Gunther himself had had plenty of flings, especially in his youth - just none so close still. "You don't have to answer" he shot her a wink, chuckling a bit because in truth he'd never seen her this quiet before.

"No" she said finally in a rush "not like that anyways. We're just friends. He's a good friend of mine from childhood you see."

"I was just teasing, carrot" he waved her off dismissively, but inside he felt - or at least he swore he felt - something close to relief. "No need to explain yourself."

"I - well first of all - don't call me carrot" she huffed "and secondly I - well I wanted to thank you. Earnestly. Drake is very dear to my heart and the nurse's and he's...well he's not a fighter by nature - "

"You can tell."

Jane shot him a disapproving glare that made Gunther raise his hands in mock surrender.

"Hey, that doesn't mean the young chap doesn't have a pair on him. He saved my life, and I'm grateful for that. Proud actually."

"Then accept my gratitude on his behalf as well. I know you wanted to stay and fight, but you turned back for me - erm for him and me. I know that if it wasn't for me you'd still be out there." She sounded as guilt ridden as she looked and it tore at him a little.

"Nonsense Jane. I know you want to be back on the field as badly as me. You did right by your brother by going back. You saved his life. No amount of fighting could've ever been reasonable enough not to." She was reckless with her loyalty, but he'd prefer that any day to a heartless bastard. "Though" he smirked ruefully "if you ever disobey an order like with that stunt you pulled back there, I promise you that you won't even get a taste of action next time."

"Noted sir" the sir was obviously a jab, but he liked the sound of her saying it "but I'd like to point that I helped take down a vital enemy soldier with a secret stash of eggs." There was no hint of regret in her voice. Where did she get the gull?

"Helpful" he stalled sarcastically, even though it was. It was just that he'd rather suffer another brain injury than let her off the hook. "And your foot? It's staying I hope?"

Jane lifted her swollen, bandaged foot for him to see. It looked like it weighed fifty pounds.

"Yes, luckily the nurse says I'll make a full recovery. Just no running from me for a while….and no flying either" her voice dropped at the second part. She tried not to look too disheartened but it wasn't working.

"I wish I could've seen you" he admitted to her surprise "I heard you flew so naturally that the enemy mistook you for a bird."

Jane laughed. "Yes, a bird that shoots missiles and wrecks entire cities."

"A dragon then" Gunther amended, earning a smile from her. There was a heat behind her eyes that he'd either never noticed or that suddenly became very present. Both possibilities made his chest constrict.

"How's your head?" Jane stepped forward, a look of concern painting her face.

"Just about as good as ever" he smirked, leaning forward to look up at her more closely. The dim, flickering light from the lantern made her hair look like fire. "Sadly, the doctor told me the injury didn't make me any smarter. Said I can't improve from brilliant." He expected Jane to scoff at him or at the very least give him a quick retort, but she did neither. Instead she slowly reached her hand out and cautiously ran her fingers across the tips of his bandages. She looked forlorn but the heat in her gaze was still there. He stayed still unsure of how to react and just looked up at her. Should he pull away? Her fingers were so delicate, so soothing as they brushed against his skin that he didn't want to pull away. Her eyes weren't looking directly into his but at his head, lips frowning with concern. Genuine concern. One that he'd only seen reserved for others but never him. Soon her entire palm caressed his head, fingers brushing against his temple and cheek.

Gunther closed his eyes, letting himself just feel her for a while before leaning into her touch. Her palms were rough, calloused from the endless toil war brought but they felt comforting. Familiar. These were hands he'd recognized despite not being touched by them before. Yet the rest of her seemed so unfamiliar, so vague to him that now it almost made him restless with curiosity. He needed to know more about her. He'd felt that way ever since she left him seeing lights after their dance. Her image burned into the back of his mind; a craving he couldn't put away. He needed to know what the curve of her waist felt like, and if the skin on her shoulders was soft and what other parts of her were rough and jaded like her hands. He opened his eyes to find Jane looking at him now.

This time he wouldn't be the one to look on as she walked away. His hands came up to grab each side of her hips, pulling her closer. The act itself wasn't rushed; moreover, he'd done it just as gingerly as she'd reached out to him, and to his surprise Jane followed his moves without reserve. He nudged his head against her hand, signaling her to keep going. Her fingers skirted down his scalp, running through his hair and Gunther shuddered at the sensation. His own fingers started to work, rubbing small circles along her hips, even over the cotton shirt he could feel her bones. It wasn't enough. He gave her another glance for permission and when she didn't reject him, he began to pull up the fabric. Her skin was hot and smooth on his fingertips. Hungrily he ran them up the curve of her waist, his thumbs stroking her ribs.

Jane grabbed onto his hair tightly. Normally it would've hurt, but his senses were too distracted by the way she felt on him. His head spun but he swore his eyes never saw more clearly. She was much softer than he'd ever imagined, her exposed skin a pearly white and unblemished except for a small scar on the right side of her stomach. It reminded him of the dress she wore that night and suddenly he wished she was wearing it again. His reaction would've been far more different if he saw it on her now.

The image made his heart quicken, her skin suddenly feeling like electricity under his fingers. Gunther's hands slid back down to rub meticulous circles again at Jane's hip bones, thumbs exploring the dips and rises of that area. Jane's own hands caressed the tops of his ears, the sides, his neck. She bit her bottom lip anxiously, sliding her hands down to the collar of his shirt before giving it a faint tug. It was a request he was quick to understand and happy to comply with. Gunther raised his arms and embarrassingly he let out a small groan at the pain. His other senses weren't completely numb it seemed. Jane helped him, taking the shirt off carefully then tossing it on the bed. He probably didn't look his best, wrapped up like a mummy in some places, scars and scratches littering a good portion of him. He thought she would've stopped then and there, maybe he was too bent out of shape for her tastes, but Jane simply paused. In the dim light he could see her bite her lip again as she looked over him, running her tongue over her bottom lip to soothe it. He felt a low rumble stir in his chest. He was done taking it slow.

Gunther yanked her closer to him, peppering quick kisses on her skin. Jane squirmed above him, probably wanting to come down to him but he held her in place. He loved the way she fidgeted with every needy kiss, her nails grabbing him hard by his shoulders. He worked his way up, kissing a trail up and around her belly button. Remembering the small scar he stopped to give it some special attention, passing his tongue over it before taking a quick nip at the area. Her skin felt like heaven between his teeth.

He could hear Jane let out a small gasp above him, her hands greedily bringing his face closer to her. She chuckled breathlessly. "I thought you said you didn't bite."

"Guess I lied" Gunther smiled against her. He kept scrunching the shirt up as he worked, but it was annoying now, obstructive more like it. His eyes met hers "Off" he commanded. Jane was more tentative than he was. He was wasn't used to this shyer side of her, but a small part of him relished it. It made her seem so vulnerable that he had to stop himself from wrapping his arms around her right then and there. Hopefully, there would be time for that later on. For now he leaned back, giving her the space she needed to use her arms freely without worrying about hitting his head. He could see a faint redness creeping from her neck up into her face. Slowly - almost agonizingly slow - she lifted the material over head, her wild curls lifting and bouncing into their haphazard pattern around her shoulders. Gunther immediately drank her up. Freckled in scars and bruises across her body, she looked amazing to him. Her frame was much thinner than it looked with all the bulkiness of their combat armor. There was a sturdiness to her arms, years of training had made her taught, yet there was a frailness about her too. If he was being too forward, it was too late to take it back. His eyes kept wandering in every direction, trailing every line and shape, every inch of skin; it was almost impossible to keep them still but he finally settled on her face, which he realized he liked most of all.

Not wanting her to feel awkward with his stillness, he smiled and pulled her in again, taking the shirt from her hand and tossing it to the other side of the room. Sitting at the edge of the bed made it easy for Jane to climb on top of his lap, her face coming close to his. Her weight felt nice against him, like she belonged there. Two pieces of a puzzle fitting together. One of his hands held her in place while the other brushed away a few loose strands from her face. He didn't get the time to tuck them properly behind her ear before Jane kissed him. Her lips felt as chapped as they looked, but they were warm and inviting. Gunther kissed back with equal fervor, caressing each side of her cheeks; the strands fell back onto their faces face, but he didn't care. He felt like a man dying of thirst, like letting go of Jane would surely kill him of need. It felt millions of times worse than that night he'd so desperately tried to find a drink in the crowded gala. Funny how she could take and give the way she did. She was always surprising him.

Sadly, after a while Gunther did have to have to stop for air, and though the separation was brief, he was left needing more. Jane must've felt the same way with the way she whimpered when he stopped. It wasn't long before he was at it again, spraying kisses onto her neck and jawline until her whimpers turned to moans.

"Promise me that I'll get to see you fly one day" he murmured against her skin, scraping his teeth along the area.

"I promise" Jane gasped, running her nails across his shoulder blade.

She grinded herself against him and Gunther had to stop and press his face into her neck to keep from making a sound. When she did it again - he was sure she wanted to prove some kind of point - her name finally stuttered out of his mouth. If he thought he was in control of this, he was sorely mistaken. Maybe that was her point, and he smiled at it. Of course she'd be trying to show off even now.

He rocked her backward, grabbing her by the back to get a better angle at the rest of her. From what he'd heard from the grapevine, army women usually wore some type of corselette under their uniforms. Little one - piece numbers that were supposedly fit for active duty but also kept the shape. Jane on the other hand wore a simple, rather dirty men's undershirt similar to one he'd always worn but tighter and much shorter. Once he'd heard her say to the nurse that she hated wearing corsets and that brassieres made her feel like a traffic cone. He almost laughed. This was completely her in every way; her skin and clothes and hair and  _undergarments_  - it all screamed Jane.

"You are sublime" he cooed, kissing her shoulder, her collarbone, her chest. He could've sworn he saw her redden a few shades darker, but it could've also been a trick of the light.

"You know" she said, wrapping her arms around him to hold him close while he kissed "I think I'm starting to grow an appreciation for the English accent."

"Champion" Gunther laughed as he heard her groan loudly.

"I hate you" she reminded him, running her hands up his chest before pushing him on his back onto the bed. Her body looked even better from that angle, and he ran an admiring hand up stomach, thumb rubbing against the fabric of her strange bra. Would he ever get tired of touching her? He'd hate to think he never could again after this.

' _Don't worry about that_ ' he chastised himself with a small frown, one he didn't think Jane noticed until she came down to kiss it away ' _just focus on now_.' And now was great because he had his fingers running up her spine as she she worked her way down his neck. Her skin rising in goosebumps. His touch exploring hers; a new terrain without destination.

In that moment Gunther felt as if he didn't care if he didn't have a home to go to, and he didn't care to need one either. She made him feel unrestrained rather than cut loose. Alone rather than lonely. Not a boy lost but a man simply roving, enjoying the view as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So happy to be finally done with this! I'm a pretty slow writer (sorry!). This is the follow up to Phosphenes and I did have fun writing this like I did with the last. I'm just having a hoot with the WWII era tbh. I also had some fun with Smithy who I originally thought was German when I first watched JATD, so I played on that fanon here. I want to thank LightningFlash on FF.net for helping me with the parts I struggled with c: I hope you enjoy.


	4. "Coffee" (Coffee)

 

 

* * *

**A/N:** Linus in this story refers to Jester.

* * *

 

“It's not that it’s--” Jane tried to think of the right words, her mouth opened in vain as she struggled to put her thoughts in order.  
  
“That he's more like a brother to you” Pepper finished at the other end of the phone.  
  
“Exactly!” the redhead was grateful she had understood, but sighed despite it all. “Linus is a good man. He's intelligent, and kind, and funny--but I can't see him as anything more than just my friend.” She brought up the wooden spoon to her mouth, taking a small taste of the sauce she'd concocted with the help of a YouTube tutorial. It was, without a doubt, disgusting. No recipe in the world would ever make her a good cook! She turned off the stove with more force than necessary, practically hearing her mother's chastising voice in her ears. “Does that make me a horrible person?”  
  
“Nooo Petal” Pepper said in that long drawn out way she did when she was lying to her.  
  
“ _Pepper_.”  
  
“I mean--listen love--you are not a bad person for turning down _any_ man. You know I love your sense of independence Jane--”  
  
“--But?” Jane knew a 'but’ was coming whenever Pepper mentioned her 'sense of independence’.  
  
“ _But,_ I think you shouldn't turn down _every_ man in the world just because you find some kind of fault with him.”  
  
“Are you calling me picky?” the redhead tried to sound insulted as she threw the pot full of sludge into the sink. It would be another night of Chinese take out.  
  
“Nooo, all I'm saying is that you have very high standards and that maybe you should consider...I don't know...lowering them for once?”  
  
“I just don't see the point in it all” Jane balanced the phone from one ear to the next as she opened the fridge. It was almost empty. Her free hand grabbed for the milk, but when she shook it she didn't like the sound it made. _Eck_. Something else to toss in the trash. “I'm in my final year now and classes are starting to really buckle down. I have test next week on Medieval government and two papers on the Renaissance. I don't have time to date!”  
  
“That's what you said when you were in your first year and then in your second year” Pepper criticized in between bites of something. Jane wondered what she was eating, though she knew it was probably much better than whatever she had attempted to cook tonight. She’d kill to have some of Pepper’s cooking right now. “When will you have time to date Jane? When you're in a senior home?! Having a degree in Ancient History doesn't mean your romantic life has to be left in the past.”  
  
“Clever” Jane raised a brow, even though her friend couldn't see it.  
  
“Thank you” Pepper chimed “Maybe one day I'll take a history course and see you in the textbooks.”  
  
“Don't push it” Turnkey warned, but smiled anyways.  
  
“But honestly Petal! When's the last time you went out on a date?”  
  
“Uhmmm...I want to say…prom?” Jane acted as if she couldn't remember, but the memory was crystal clear in her mind. John Johnson had been as dull as his name sounded. He'd worn a tan tuxedo (of all atrocities) to the dance and stood next to the snack table for most of the night. Jane had never known the human body was capable of storing that much punch in one night.  
  
“Mhm” Pepper said as if she'd expected as much “And the last time you shagged someone?”  
  
“Pepper!” She could feel her face grow hot, and Jane looked around her apartment as if fearing someone had overheard her friend's blunt question, but she lived alone so her worry was for naught. The tall woman stayed silent for a moment before finally groaning, her palm coming up to rub at her cheek. “Prom.”  
  
“Well that is about to change Jane Turnkey! I can't sit idly by and watch my Petal collect dust like some old, unused tissue! You're going on a date and that will be the end of it. No more 'if's or 'but's from you until after you've given someone a chance.”  
  
“I get this dreaded feeling that you've already had something planned in advance.” The pit of her stomach turned cold from the thought of it. That’s exactly something she’d do.  
  
“Yes, if you must know I've planned a date with Drake tomorrow, and he has a rather handsome friend he can bring along.”  
  
“Who is it?”  
  
“A man with a respectable job--”  
  
“-like who?”  
  
“--and who is also very into his studies--”  
  
“Pepper, you better not say who I think you're going to--”  
  
“--and his name may or may not be Gunther Breech.”  
  
“NO. No. DEFINITELY NOT” Jane put her mouth directly into the mic of her phone “I refuse to go anywhere near that rat! Let me invite Linus instead, at least he doesn't give me the urge to choke him where he stands.”  
  
“Well that is tough turnips Jane” Pepper tried her best to sound snooty. It reminded her of her mother. “Because I've already invited him, and Drake is looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. So...there!”  
  
“Compelling argument” Jane replied sarcastically.  
  
“You might as well start to get used to him anyways” the brunette warned “One day he might be teaching at the same university as you.”  
  
“You know very well that if he were to get any type of position in any university it would be because--” Jane could hear her friend start to quote her verbatim on the other side of the phone.

“--his father bribed the staff to put him there. He’s not competent enough to pass on his own.”  
_“his father bribed the staff to put him there. He’s not competent enough to pass on his own.”_  
  
She heard Pepper sigh as if she was a million miles away. “I know Petal, but I’m not asking you to marry Gunther--just humor him for one night. He does seem to like you.”  
  
And that was the real problem, because Gunther made it abundantly clear to her that his hatred had turned into something else. He had been particularly cheeky the past few weeks, though Jane was sure it was simply another tactic to get under her skin. Apparently her dry spell was more public than she might have figured, and Gunther was enjoying every bit of it.  
  
“If it helps any little bit, he is looking a bit more attractive than usual--”  
  
“--Pepper--”  
  
“--I’m just saying! The other day Drake and I had run into him at that little coffee shop by Fifth Avenue--what was the name? Kipper...something...Kafe maybe...well in any case, he had just come from the gym and--”  
  
“-- _Pepper_ \--”    
  
“--I’m just saying! He was practically glistening in that grey tank top--”  
  
“--OK, OK I get it--” Jane could feel her face grow warm. Despite her will power, the image had popped into her mind more clearly than she would’ve liked. Gunther was good looking, there was no denying that...and yes maybe recently she had noticed he looked more...in shape than usual.  
  
“Dumb or not, the boy can turn heads.”  
  
“Gunther isn’t dumb” Jane sighed, already tired of talking and thinking about Gunther for one day “he’s just lazy. He’s a rat remember?”  
  
“But a hot rat.”  
  
“I’m not going validate that statement with a response.”  
  
“That’s fine” Jane could hear the smile on Pepper's lips "either way you _do_ owe Drake a visit. If I remember correctly, someone promised to see his new spring potatoes last week but didn’t show up?”  
  
Jane stayed quiet. Suddenly she didn’t feel so hungry.  
  
“I’ll be making your favorite-- _Eton mess with extra strawberries_ ” Pepper sang tantalizingly.  
  
Disobediently, her stomach growled. Maybe she was a little bit hungry. “Fine, fine” Jane messaged her aching temple “but don’t expect me to play nice. I’m going there to eat and look at potatoes.”  
  
“Perfect!” Pepper practically squealed “See you tomorrow Petal!”  
  
Jane was sure her groan could be heard in the apartment room above, but she didn’t care. When she finished, she called Chinese restaurant from across the street and tried not to think anymore about Gunther and his grey tank top.  


* * *

  
“Come in! Come in!” Pepper rushed Jane inside without letting her get a word out. She looked almost as stressed as she sounded. Her over-sized and stained shirt hung off of one shoulder, the words ‘Be Happy!’ printed in a bright purple across the top of it. The bright yellow smiley face on it beamed eagerly at Jane. She frowned.  
  
“For a second I thought there was a war going on in here” the taller female teased “with all the disturbing noises I heard coming from the other side of the door.”  
  
“Don’t mind the racket coming from the kitchen” Pepper put her hands on her hips “I’m wrangling with a couple of my pans right now. I’ve lost one of the bloody ones I actually need!”  
  
“Can’t you just use another one?” Jane asked casually, closing the door behind her. The look of disbelief from Pepper was a clear enough answer. “OK, I get you--foolish question. My sincerest apologies chef.”  
  
“You are forgiven” the short girl smiled amusedly before it turned back into a frown. “This whole ordeal has me falling a bit behind schedule” she blew away a wild strand of hair from her eyes “But it’s okay! Drake told me he and Gunther were running behind too, so hopefully everything will be done by then.”  
  
“Do you need some help? I could help you cook or--”  
  
“--Oh nonono! I mean--no need Petal, please just enjoy yourself.”  
  
“Nice save” Jane’s eyebrows furrowed with both humor and insult. She couldn’t blame her, the last time she helped Pepper cook Jane had managed to burned down half the kitchen and overflow the other half with water. “I brought this, if this..helps at all I guess?” she motioned to the bottle of wine wrapped in a paper bag “I know I’ll be drinking some tonight for sure.” She mumbled the last part.  
  
“I might just be having two cups right now if you don’t mind” Pepper winked, as she gratefully took the bottle from her hands. When she opened the door leading to the kitchen, Jane could see the mess of pots and pans and spoons that littered the counters. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t touching that. Maybe she’d help clean, but her services would only make matters worse.  
  
“Can I put my jacket in your room?” she called out to Pepper, who popped her head out with a cup of wine in hand.  
  
“Of course! Oh and I uhm, got you a little something.” Her smile was practically devilish as she sipped her drink. Jane didn’t like it one bit. She squinted her eyes at the brunette, but the girl spoke no more before she turned and headed back to the kitchen.  
  
“That Eton mess better be the best damn dessert I’ve ever had” Jane mumbled as she walked into Pepper’s room. Completely contrast to the kitchen area, it was impeccable, and she almost felt bad throwing her jacket onto the crisp bed sheets. Next to her jacket lay the gift Pepper had gotten her. The gift box alone was lovely enough to make her hold her breath for a second. It was creme colored and elegantly wrapped by a black silk bow. The redhead touched the bow gingerly, turning one of the ribbons over to read the label ‘GWENDOLINE DESIGNS’ printed on the end. The company sounded familiar, but not enough to where Jane could place the product. It all looked a bit pricey, enough to embarrass her a little. Pepper really did spoil her too much sometimes.  
  
From the other side of the door she could hear the loud clanking of pots and pans, strung with a couple of color curses from her friend.  
   
Opening the box, Jane found another bow, this one a light pink, wrapped around black tissue paper. “Jeez” she mumbled, finding it a bit of a shame to take apart the pretty wrapping. Her fingers skirted over a a small sticker that kept the tissue paper from opening at the bottom. On it was a small picture of a cup with a heart etched on its surface. She peeled the sticker off, and to her surprise she noticed a word printed on the back side. ‘COFFEE’ it read in simple, black font. Confused, Jane quickly undid the last bow and separated the paper. Inside was...well...she didn’t really know. It was a vibrant brown color with a lot of lace and straps that she couldn’t quite figure out. Was it some sort of strange dress? A jumpsuit maybe?  
  
From the kitchen she heard Pepper turn on some music. A bouncy little tune she usually played when she was trying to calm herself down from an anger spell.  
  
She dug around until she found two straps that she believed were for the shoulders and pulled the piece of fabric out. Soon enough it became crystal clear what she was looking at.  
  
Lingerie.  
  
Pepper had bought her brown lingerie with all the works. The network of straps connected one of the main pieces together, and to her _pleasant_ surprise Jane found small bows adorning the lace here and there. A little embellishment of dark brown crystals were sewn into the dainty, tiny three piece ensemble, and she watched as they sparkled under Pepper’s bedroom light. From the corner of her eye, Jane caught a small white card with her friend’s cursive written neatly on it.  
  
_‘For you Petal~! Call this a good luck charm for things to come. ;) May it spark a whole latte love!_  
  
_Xoxo,_  
  
_The most caring friend you have._  
_PS No need to thank me.’_  
  
Jane stared dumbfounded at the note. Oh, she was going to start ‘a whole latte’ something alright!  
  
“No, no Jane. That’s exactly what she wants.” Pepper knew how to tease her just as well as Gunther sometimes, especially when she knew she could get her all worked up and flustered. If she retaliated now with a slew of words, then Pepper had gotten the upper hand between them. She needed to be smart--she needed to beat her at her own game. Jane pressed her ear the door. The music still played, but aside from that it was relatively quiet. “I’m going to give her exactly what she wants. Two can play cheeky Pepper, just watch.” If there was something she didn’t like, it was being made a sport of, and admittedly that was sometimes a rather easy thing for someone to do. It did take Jane a while to catch up to pranks and jokes. She wasn’t half as witty as Linus, or as spunky as Pepper, but eventually she could play with the best of them. “Okay” she said to the lingerie as she held it back up “time to put you on.”  
  
The task proved to be as daunting as it felt. It had taken her about ten minutes to figure out what body part went where and what bit went over what, and in the end she learned that _not very much_ went over any bit. However, after much of the struggle was over, Jane took a look at herself in the mirror. It felt like ripping off a very painful band-aid; she wasn’t really used to wearing anything like this. The thought of going out to buy lingerie herself was mortifying enough, but this was a new level of humiliation. Still, what she saw in her reflection didn’t look...all that bad? The pieces fit her very well, and the color did compliment her skin tone surprisingly well. The rich brown was strikingly similar to coffee beans and she appreciated the attention to detail put into the small beads. If she had become a housewife like her mother wanted her to instead of a history professor, perhaps she would have learned to make things like this. Her bum didn’t look half bad either.  
  
“Petal?”  
  
Pepper’s voice took Jane out of her thoughts, and the ginger smiled impishly at the thought of surprising her. ‘ _She’s going to have a stroke when she sees me in this!’_ Jane almost laughed, the thought of her friend’s shocked face too sweet an image to take in.  
  
“Coming!” she called out as innocently as she could. Without giving herself a chance to regret her decision, Jane opened the door and stood in the hallway with her hands on her hips. She made a mocking attempt at a sexy pose just as Pepper set down a tray full of rice on the table.  
  
“What do you think Pepper? Is this cute enough for my date to enjoy? Or should I wear something else?”  
  
The brunette’s expression was just as good--no--so much better than Jane could’ve imagined. Pepper’s mouth dropped open at a speed that Jane had yet to witness even on rocket ships. Her eyes, which were already pretty large in comparison to others, grew twice their size. She looked almost cartoonish!  
  
“Uhhhh” was all the girl was able to muster, and that was enough to send Jane in a fit of laugh and snorts. Jane laughed until tears pricked at her eyes.  
  
“And I thought you were under dressed Pepper--” a familiar voice cut Jane’s laugh short “but it looks like Jane has taken the meaning to a whole new level.”  
  
_No. Nonono. No. It can’t be._  
  
But it was.  
  
Gunther stood at the other end of the hall, arms crossed as he brazenly drank Jane up with his eyes. The smirk on his face was sharp with amusement. “And no Jane, I can’t say I have any issues with this get up. It looks simply peachy to me.”  
  
Jane felt-- _felt with every single fiber in her being_ \--the color drain from her body. She stood there, frozen like a deer caught in headlights but silently begging to be hit by a semi.  
  
“Our guests...arrived a bit earlier...than expected” explained Pepper slowly, her eyes still glued to Jane.    
  
“Oh hello Pepper. Hello J-- _bouncing blueberries_!” Rake stammered as he walked in, also catching a glimpse of her. He quickly covered his eyes with his hands, albeit he had grown a few shades redder. “H-hello Jane. I’m sorry. I didn’t know we were having a sleepover kind of party?”  
  
“Now that sounds fun” Gunther continued, pointing to Rake but not turning to look at him. “Is that suddenly on the table? Because I call dibs on sharing a bed with Turnkey here.”  
  
“G-gunther” Jane finally managed between her gritted teeth “you complete b-b-biscuitweevil.”  
  
“No?” Breech acted genuinely surprised before returning to his shit eating grin “then perhaps I could take you out to get a cup of coffee sometime? There’s this quaint cafe on Fifth Avenue, have you heard of it?”  



End file.
